Letters to a Little Duck
by LovelyHollyDesu
Summary: "It was promise that things would go on, no matter how damaged or irreparably broken we seemed." Katniss decides to write a letter to her beloved sister Primrose Everdeen. Oneshot.


I know it was short, but what did you all think? Please don't be too harsh, it was my first fic... although I know that doesn't really excuse any mistakes I'm sure I made somewhere... Please review! And I hope you like it. P.S. Can anyone figure out where I got the name Hawthorne from? ;)

* * *

_Dearest Prim,_

I recall once speaking of Rue. Before I allow you to become upset over the fact that this letter does not begin with your affairs but with Rue's, allow me to clarify: one of the main factors that brought me to trust Rue was that she reminded me of you.

As I was mentioning, I once said - I believe in District 11 - that I saw Rue everywhere, in the yellow flowers that grew by our old house in the Seam, in the mockingjays that fly by outside. The final comparison was you, Prim. I said I saw Rue in _you, _my precious sister.

However that can not be the case anymore. Since you are no longer here, or I am no longer with you, however you prefer to look at it, no comparisons can be made.

Of course those canary-colored flowers still grow. When I got out of the Games, the first Games, those could still spark happiness inside me, however dull, but happiness nonetheless. A promise that things would go on, no matter how damaged or irreparably broken we seemed.

It didn't matter that I had killed people or that people had tried to kill me more times than I could count, but for just a moment after seeing those flowers, I would think of Rue and the dull ache in my heart would lessen for a second or two.

And of course those gray mockingjays still soar past my house, or outside in the woods.

I would say they flew in the forest - just past the fence, on the reaches of freedom - but thankfully, that is not the case. There nothing to separate civilization and the world now, no fences or electricity or watchtowers with armed guards.

I remember how much you hated the woods - and blood, of course! Oh, those poor deer, Katniss, we've got to get them home before they bleed to death - don't shoot that sparrow, I'm sure it's got a family - and the like. Though I think you would like the forest now. And while, yes, there are dangerous things out there, they pale in comparison to the treachery of the Capitol. Or what was once the Capitol.

To be completely honest with you, the woods are no longer as... special to me as they used to be. I still love going in there with a bow and my game bag, but there was a certain _greatness _to being able to sit on the crest of a hill and overlook the world, knowing the spot you were in was yours and yours alone. If someone wanted to share the spot with you, they would have to dodge the fence, gather their bravery, and walk into the unknown.

The feeling is not the same, though still tranquil as ever. In fact, I've been teaching Prim to shoot and hunt. We've got more than enough to feed our family, but I -

What? Why are you looking at me like that, saying I've never bothered to teach you to hunt? No, I did try. You just hate the sight of blood! Besides, I'm talking about Primrose Mellark.

Yes, that's correct, my daughter. Primose and Hawthorne, my two precious children.

One with the dark hair and olive skin but merchant blue eyes, the other blonde with deadly gray eyes. I finally have something to look at that will remind me of you, Prim. Not just flowers that die every winter or birds that are the creation of a horrible muttation.

A living, breathing human. A little girl who looks a lot like me, but with sparkling blue eyes, the eyes of the first Primrose Everdeen I knew.

Don't get me wrong. Someday I will tell Prim and Hawthorne everything - the Games, the rebellion, the Mockingjay. And you. I swear I won't forget about you.

As Peeta always says, "We must not forget."

I suppose he's right. Absolutely about you. But I'm not so sure about the Games. All I'm hoping is that something like this will never happen again, not to me or you (though you're beyond harm) or anyone I love, Peeta or Little Prim or Hawthorne. Or Gale.

Not yet have I been able to shake all traces of the past, though. And I suspect I never will, not one hundred percent, at least. Once we were sitting by a warm fire in the fireplace on a cold evening, eating popcorn, the very snack we used to make together, and Peeta suddenly got the inspiration to turn on the television. I told him not to. I distinctly remember what I said: "Peeta, the children are in the room!"

You see, I didn't remember.

I had forgotten - the news no longer shows families torn apart and mourning over their slaughtered children, or the rubble of a thought-to-be-destroyed District, or reruns of some of the bloodiest 'Games' ever. No, instead, there was just a commercial for District Three. A regular one. About visiting and tourist attractions.

Peeta said to me, "It's okay, Katniss. Nothing's so bad."

For which I am grateful.

Please wait for me, and when the day comes, embrace me as your sister once again. I would braid your hair, or you would braid mine, and I would hunt squirrels while you picked dandelions and rue flowers. Just like things always were.

One last thing. Do you grieve for our old life? Do you miss it? All we ever knew back then was starvation, yes, starvation and terror (though the terror was softer in Twelve than in the other Districts, somehow), but we both knew where we stood. In our little community with the Seam and the Hob and the miners.

What do you think, Prim? But I'm sure if you were here - not to make you feel worse, of course not - that you would thoroughly enjoy this new life. We are safe in our haven, we are warm in our home. I planted daisies outside that guard us from harm.

It is indeed the place where I love you, Little Duck.

Your sister with loving sincerity,

_Katniss E. Mellark_


End file.
